


Whispers of the Heart

by BlackAngel001



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Magic, Magical Realism, Post Swan Song, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackAngel001/pseuds/BlackAngel001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although Christmas ended a few weeks ago, the miracles keep coming when Sam shows up at Dean's work.  But something isn't right: Sam looks, talks and acts like Sammy, but is it really him? Dean enlists the help of Castiel and another angel to find out and bring his little brother home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1-Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is complete but I'm only going to post one chapter a day (or try to)

"Dad lied to me," Sam told him before offering the gift once more.

Dean still hesitated in taking it. Well, if that was the guage Sam was using for present worthiness, Dean figured he was just as undeserving as their dad. Dead had lied to Sam, for all of eight years and just lied again no more than ten minutes ago. So, if Sam wasn't giving the present to dad as intended for lying, why in the world was he giving it to Dean?

He looked at his little brother's face and read the slight loss of innocence there, the little bit of dullness in his eyes. Dullness that Dean had put there last night by telling Sam about the monsters.

And it suddenly made sense to Dean.

When Sam had confronted his big brother about the gun and the salt, Dean had denied it. When their dad's journal was brought out and Sam had stared at him head on and unflinching through Dean's last ditch effort to avoid the conversation, Dead had resigned himself and only asked for the promise not to tell dad.

It wasn't the whole truth, barely touched the tip of the iceberg, but Dean hadn't tried to deflect, avoid, or brush away the truth when Sam showed that yes, he knew something, and yes, any future trust was riding on Dean's response, even if they weren't really aware of that.

By answering as honestly as possible about the big issue, Dean was forgiven for the lie he told in trying to give Sam a good Christmas.

But, Dean had to make sure his conlusions were right, so he asked, "Are you sure?"

Sam nodded and pressed the package against Dean's knee again. "I'm sure. I want you to have it."

When the gold amulet fell into his hand, Dean was just a bit speechless. He didn't know exactly what it was and he didn't really care. His brother was giving him something special with the gift. It was an assurance that they were okay, they were going to be okay no matter what, that Sam trusted Dean always, and most important, Sam loved him. That was all Dean really needed.

_**Present Day** _

Castiel was gone back to heaven, getting things in order up there, Dean assumed.

Bobby was still up and walking, still hunting. He called Dean every so often to check up.

And Sam...Sam was gone, still in the hole he'd dragged Lucifer and Michael into with him. Still in Hell going through things Dean knew and could imagine and more than likely things Dean could never fathom. Dean didn't really want to try to imagine those anyway.

But his little brother had a few tricks left yet, and that seemed to inlude reaching Dean from beyond the grave at Christmas. The proof was in the package Bobby had sent Dean, with a simple note.

_Sam wanted you to have this, one way or the other...I know he'd have preffered giving it to ya himself._

Inside the package, a letter and a small square of something wrapped in newspaper. He read the letter first.

_Dean,_

_Well, this is it. I'm either dead or Lucifer's meat suit by now. Honestly, I'm kinda hoping for dead, if I had a choice between the two. Yeah, not exactly what you want to hear, I know. If my third option was living and still taking out the Devil, I'd take that one._

_Anyway, this is gonna get sappy, so here's your chick-flick moment warning._

_We've all agreed on how to stop Lucifer, and because even though I can keep it short and simple with Bobby and Cas, you deserve more than that. There's things I need to tell you, that you need to hear, that can't be said in the time we have. I can't-won't- let it go like that._

_You were talking about how grown up I was to still believe in you, after everything. That's not me being grown up, that's just me being Sammy, even if that faith in you did seem to be gone or screwed up. It wasn't ever gone, though, just so you know._

_I never stopped believing in you Dean, especially at the worst times._

_No, the grown up thing I did was to forgive myself and you. Yeah, I've finally made my peace with everything and most importantly, I forgive you. There's plenty of things to forgive, like when you put live tadpoles in Sally David's pockets and told her I did it. And I do forgive you the little stuff too, but I'm talking about the big stuff mostly, the stuff we never talked about and probably should have. Not telling me about Dad's final words, the deal, giving up, all of it. The things you did may have sucked, but you meant well, for me and other people and you were truely sorry later for most of it. Yeah, I know "sorry" doesn't mean much a lot of times when the hurt and anger are still there and fresh, but other times...it means everything in the world. So, I forgive you, for everything._

_You forgive me too, I know. Otherwise, you wouldn't have changed your mind about saying yest to Michael, and you wouldn't have gone along with my plan about the Devil. Some stuff will always be hard to swallow (I still try to get some things to stay down), like when I left for Stanford or left with Ruby. But, it'll eventually stop lodging in your throat and that's how you'll know that you've really forgiven yourself. I hope you'll be able to forgive yourself Dean. You really do deserve it._

_It never seemed I needed to say this before that lame ass time in heaven, but I realized after that year, it does need to be said out loud and not in some kind of messed up code._

_Dean, I really did, still do, want and need you in my life. When I ran away, it was so I could become better than what I was for you. I had to be sure of myself otherwise I never would be able wo watch your bak right. And for the record, that Thanksgiving with Jess and her family? I didn't want to go and kept wishing you were there. Just saying._

_Those were all rigged. I wasn't better off without you (those four months after you were gone proved that); hell, it was always worse. Can't take care of myself, that's what you always said. It's true, in a way. I rely on you, always have._

_Anyway, what I'm trying to say here is that it's okay. We're okay, in our own twisted way, but that works for us. It took me a while to figure it out (some college boy, huh?) but we still trust each other, we need each other, and we love each other. You can't deny it, I know you Dean. And I promised, no more lies._

_the end note here is that I hope you'll take the gift with this letter back. I'll understand if you can't, but remember, it's not about the failure in the search for God, and it sure as anything is not about failure on your part or mine._

_It's just...something really special._

_Remember, you're still my brother, jerk._

_Sam_

_PS Oh, and if you show up downstairs any time soon for any reason, I'm gonna kick your ass. Knock down heaven's door and kick angel ass that get's in your way, bro._

He read the familiar writing again and again, wiping his tears away quickly before they could blot the pages.

Sammy forgave him, and himself. A little bit of peace settled on Dean's heart, glad that it had happened. He was doubly glad that Sammy knew Dean had forgiven him, too.

The entire letter was a balm to Dean's aching heart and soul. It didn't make things better, not when Sam wasn't there to say it all himself, when Sam couldn't hear Dean say it all, but it helped. And damn Sam and his caring and sharing moods that worked. Dean turned his attention to the newspaper wrapping. He knew what was in it, but he just wasn't sure if he wanted it. Carefully, he tore back the tape and unfolded the wrapping. Sam still sucked at gift wrapping, he thought with a smirk.

Holding the worn piece of metal in his palm, the weight familiar and reassuring, the memories and emotions of the Christmas that Sam had first given the amulet to Dean came over him.

Dean considered the worn edges, the frayed cord, everything in his life.

Sam was absolutely right, it was something special, it represented something special.

It represented their bond as brothers no matter what.

Dean folded the letter, put it in his pocket, then slipped the cord over his head and around his neck. It felt odd and familiar against his chest and Dean touched it again, for just a moment. Then, he went to the Impala to go back to Lisa and Ben. He looked over to the shotgun seat and smiled, green eyes a little lighter.

Starting the car and staring at the road in front of him, Dean kept his smile and said, "Bitch."

If he pretended just a bit, he could hear Sam laughing next to him.

Yeah, Dean figured. They were okay.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean liked cars. He liked the smooth lines and sleek designs, and he could appreciate the newer models as well as the classics. He enjoyed the beautiful women that sometimes came with a car-on a strictly no touch basis of course. He especially enjoyed working on cars. Dean had always imagined that if he wasn't a hunter then he would be a mechanic, like his dad and Bobby.

Half a year of working in a garage was beginning to shift his views, though. Just the part about being a mechanic, not the rest of it, although his own business sounded pretty good, damn authorative bosses. Then there were the idiots who swore that it couldn't be the altinator, it's just a spark plug, not because years or even months of mechanical experience told them, but because they just knew. Freakin' dumbasses.

Dean was in a foul mood and it was showing. Ben was becoming a rebellious pain in the ass and Dean and Cassie were arguing more and more, mostly about how Dean needed to stop moping around and get over it, 'it' being five months of Sam gone.

 _Five months, three weeks, and six days actually_ , he though grimly while pulling roughly on a socket wrench.

Not that he was keeping track or anything.

Dean was itching to get into the Impala and just drive somewhere, anywhere, as long as there was open road in front of him. He wouldn't necessarily hunt, maybe a few salt and burns, just go to some shows, see the Grand Canyon. There had been a few road trips, but nothing out of state and nothing longer than a week. Dean couldn't handle the empty passenger seat, and he definetely couldn't handle seeing the Grand Canyon by himself, not when it had been something he and Sam had always planned to do together.

So it seemed he was doomed to stay in this town with a job he hated a little more each day, a woman who was beginning to resent him a little more each day, and a kid who was fond of reminding him that Dean wasn't his dad everyday.

Life sucked big ones at the moment.

"You ever find out what was making that ratteling noise?"

Dean raised his head so quickly he almost bashed his head on the hood. The socket wrench was in a white knuckled grip as he replayed the words and voice over and over in his head. It seemed like years since he'd first heard that sentance (it had actually but that was all semantics) and even longer since he'd heard that voice. The wording, the tone, the slight midwest drawl you couldn't always hear. Dean was back to that side of the road, under the hood and drinking a beer with Sam next to him, showing him the how to of basic mechanics, smiling and just being brothers.

It took him a minute to look out in the garage; if it had been nothing more than memory coming back to haunt him, Dean knew he would be heartbroken. The possiblity that it was his brother was practically non existant as it was, why give himself more anguish by proving that? But, deep inside, Dean knew that if he didn't look he'd regret it.

So he did.

There at the opposite end of the garage was a six foot plus man with shaggy hair, stripped button down with the sleeves rolled up, and faded jeans. Even from that distance, the man's voice carried and Dean could hear it clearly. When that shaggy head turned and Dean saw the familiar face, he knew.

For a moment, Dean had no idea what to do. He could only stare in shock and wonder and-thank you thank you thank you, thank you!- as he watched Sam move to a car with the mechanic, gesturing and doing the tilt of the head that meant he was a little confused. On autopilot and still reeling, Dean started moving.

"...don't know why you'd have to charge so much for something like that, if it's so small," Sam was saying and Dean's knees nearly gave away.

"Well, it's the shipping and stuff, and labor you know," the mechanic replied.

"You've got an autoparts store in town, don't you," Sam asked, barely glancing at Dean, attention solely focused on the man in front of him.

"Yeah, well," Pat started to say but he was cut off.

"And if this part breaks down commonly like you say, then they should have it there."

"Yes," came the guarded response.

"So...why do you have to order it in again, when you, or me, even, get that part from the store and it would save time and money on my end and possibly yours?" Pat's eyebrow twitched and Sam gave that little smile he always got when he'd found the right answer or won an argument. "Or maybe, that's the whole point, huh?"

Pat muttered something and stepped away but Sam stopped him dead with a chilly voice. "Don't bother, I'll call them myself, thanks."

The other mechanic stormed off. Sam shook his head, sighed, and pulled out his phone. Everything was so Sam, the movements, the way of speaking, the voice, even the way his sleeves were rolled just screamed Sam. Dean stepped forward, grabbing the younger man's attention.

"Sammy?"

There was that head tilt again, and the little furrow he got. "I'm sorry, I think you've got me confused with someone else."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean could only manage to stand there, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar as the words played again in his mind.

_"Sorry...confused me with someone else."_

An air gun went off somewhere in the garage and he shook himself out of his stupor. Dean grinned a little, just a little upturn of the corner of his mouth.

"Sam, you've pulled some pretty bad pranks over the years, but this is the worst one yet," Dean said, reaching out and gripping Sam's upper arm.

The youngest man's eyebrows went up and he pulled away, eyes darting around like he was looking for someone to help him.

For someone to help him against his older brother.

The thought was like a sucker punch in Dean's gut and he took a step back.

"Sam," he started.

"I told you, I'm not this Sam guy," Sam-but-not-Sam interrupted.

All the possibilities of what could be impersinating or possessing his brother ran through Dean's mind, but the most likely stuck out starkly in his hunter's mind. Eyes slightly narrowed at the idea that one of those deomon bastards had used Sam to get out of Hell, Dean muttered, "Christo."

Sam's eyebrows went up again. "Hey, look, I'm sorry you thought I was someone else but that's no reason to curse me in Latin."

Dean studied him carefully; there were no flinches, no inky black eyes, no shudders, no reaction other than that kind of irked statement in the bitchy/whiney tone only Sam used to perfection. So demon was out. A cold chill settled in Dean's bones thinking that maybe Lucifer had managed to get out and that he was using Sam up here for...wait. If Lucifer was back topside, then he would be unleashing hordes of demons and causing the world to end, not getting into some debat with a mechanic over a car part. And besides, if Lucifer had indeed gotten out, Castiel would've been down in a hot minute to tell Dean about it, right? Right. So, that just left...he ran through that hunter's list of nasties again. Way too many freakin' possibilities.

The upside to that?

Alot of them had similar tells.

All of this ran through Dean's mind in less than six seconds before he was replying, "Dude, how do you know Latin?"

This time an eyebrow was up in that 'Are you serious or are you just your deliberatly stupid self' kind of way (again, SO Sammy!). "I took it in college."

"Oh."

There was a bit of an akward silence that Dean hated but couldn't help because Sam apparently wasn't Sam right then; ergo, Dean couldn't go with his first reaction and hug the kid and Dean couldn't think of anything to say to Sam past 'Holy crap, you're back, you're alive, oh my god, what happened are you okay' and Sam just couldn't think of anything to say to Dean because apparently Dean was a stranger; ergo, the silence that grew akward.

When not Sam turned around to walk away, Dean quickly thought up a half-assed plan (like most of his other plans in the past) and acted before Sam (because it couldn't be anyone else, damn it!) got too far and Dean lost his nerve.

"Hey, hey, hold on," he said raising his hand to grip a shoulder but dropping it before contact was made.

Sam paused and half turned back, looking wary.

Dean put on his best 'don't mind me I'm totally harmless' grin. "Hey, I'm sorry man. You just really do look like this guy I know and everything so." Dean shrugged carelessly and looked at the wall clock. "Look, I'm off in two minutes, how about I buy you a drink to make up for it? I'll even give you a ride, if you want."

By then Sam was facing Dean again. His eyebrows furrowed, his head tilted a little then straightened back out and he shuffled his feet a bit. Dean grinned wider and stuck his hand out.

"Dean Winchester."

After a moments hesitation, Sam took his hand and shook it firmly.

"Jadon Nash."

Dean nodded. "So, how about that drink?"

When "Jadon" still hesitated, Dean used his own kind of puppy dog eyes. It worked mostly on getting women into bed, but when he used it just so, not even Sam could tell Dean no when combined with his most pathetic expression, which wasn't often.

"Jadon" suddenly grinned, dimples popping out and eyes lighting up and Dean could've cried at the familiar and much missed sight.

"Dude, are you asking me to a friendly drink or out on a date?" He lauged at Dean's sputtered attempts at a response and bumped his shoulder against Dean's easily, still grinning as he passed by.

Dean clocked out, bantered a bit with one of the guys he actually liked, and headed out with Sa-Jadon to the Impala.

Jadon nodded appreciatively at the classic car, impressed more with the condition of it that anything else.

"Wow," he said when they got to the doors. "Nice. What year?"

"'67, and she still runs like a dream," Dean said proudly while sliding in.

The younger man twisted around in his seat to look at the interior while Dean gripped the steering wheel until his kuckles turned white. To distract himself from his own memories and wishes, he reached over to the passenger floorboards to get the box he hadn't touch in five months. Jadon eyed the falling apart piece of cardboard.

"Dude, really?"

"What?" Dean paused in rifling through the tapes and looked up. "What's wrong the cassette tapes?"

"Uh, they're cassette tapes," grinned Jadon, leaning back in the bench seat and halfway against the door liked he'd done it a thousand times before.

Somehow, Dean got the words out of his throat despite the lump and constriction there. "House rules man. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

If Dean had to clear his throat and casually wipe at his eyes through the trip, neither of them said a word about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Veet's was a local bar that was clean, friendly, upbeat, and near a nice part of the downtown area. You could have a drink or a small meal while listening to live local music. It was definetely one of the better bars Dean had been in, and he enjoyed the company of the the other patrons, even the owner, who made regular apperances to chat with people and take and serve orders himself.

Dean and Jadon were two hours and three rounds in and Dean knew practically everything there was to know about the other man.

Jadon had lost his parents in a house fire at six months old, and had been bounced around the foster system until he turned eighteen and got a full ride scholarship to Stanford. He graduated top of his class and was working as a lawyer for one of the top firms in California He was engaged to a lovely up and coming artist and was headed to met her at her parent's place for a visit.

There were way too many similiarites between Jadon's history and Sam's, not to mention the looks. Dean had already confirmed that he wasn't possessed, he didn't react to the holy water Dean had slipped into the first beer, and when Dean had "accidentaly" cut him with his silver pocket knife there hadn't been anything. Dean had no explination for what was going on, but he knew that Jadon Nash was Sam Winchester.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to get Jadon to remember Sam. And to ignore the voice in his head saying that Jadon was Jadon and not Sam.

Another two hours later, Dean was starting to believe that voice. There were some things about the man's personality and habits that were just like Sam's but other than that and the appearance, nothing was the same. He flinched at overly loud noises, especially if the sound was metallic in anyway, he stayed away from fire like it was after him personally, he kept his back to the wall no matter what, avoided small areas, and when Dean had cut him with his knife, it had taken a long few minutes to convince him to stay and even longer for Jadon to stop looking like he might bolt. Maybe Jadon was like a doppleganger, a double or twin of Sam who had no supernatural relation and it was just one of those universal mirror things.

The idea was crazy to him, but when the two of them staggered out of the bar, grabbed the cooler from the back of the Impala and headed across the street to continue the drinking party at Jadon's hotel room, it was the best theory he had other than Sam was back.

When the door to the motel room opened, Jadon threw his jacket and keys on the little table motels always seemed to have and went directly to the second bed, the one furthest from the door. For a minute Dean forgot that it was Jadon and not Sam and didn't question why he would sleep in that particular bed; he just closed the door, plunked down the cooler, grabbed two more beers and flopped back down onto the other bed, eyes closed and sighing deeply.

"Hey, Dean?"

It took a second and a bit of rolling for Dean to sit up, but he managed it. Jadon had his mouth open like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. Instead he was staring at Dean's chest. Frowning, Dean looked down and only saw his amulet swinging lazily from his movements. Dean leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees and ducked his head a bit to catch the hazel gaze.

"Yeah?"

Jadon blinked and looked confused, then put a fist to his forehead. "Uh...I wanted to..." He grimaced and hissed with pain, eyes scrunched closed and when he opened them again, there was total fear and even more confusion.

There was also the beginnings of recognition.

"Dean? Why..what're...?" Then his eyes were wide and he started to scream.

"Sammy!" The bottle of beer dropped from Dean's hands, forgotten, as he lunged forward to catch Sam as he fell. He knew Jadon was Sam, he knew it! But the moment of triumph faded under his brother's tortured screams and Dean had to clamp a hand over his mouth so no one would call the cops or come investigate. Sam writhed like he was in pain and tears leaked from his eyes as they went rapidly and unseeingly around the room. Dean started to rock Sam and murmur to him, trying to reassure him like he had hundreds of times before.

It wasn't working.

Dean was at a total loss on what to do to help Sam when he heard a flutter, felt the brush of a gentle wind, and then two fingers were pressed against Sam's forehead. Sam went rigid, eyes still wide, then he was totally slack and his eyes closed. The sudden change scared Dean, but the warm breath puffing against his arm where Sam's head had lolled to the side assured him that Sam was among the living.

Dean looked up ready to fight the newcomer and felt his mouth go slack for the second time that day.

"Castiel?"


End file.
